


Guilt

by Myrmiri



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Warrior of Light, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, heavensward spoilers but also everyone should know by now, if not then be warned, no dialogue we die like men, oh god this is just a late-night spontaneous idea just kill me, sorry not sorry but also really sorry, the dumb dragoon has feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22373209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrmiri/pseuds/Myrmiri
Summary: The Azure Dragoon seems cool and collected on the outside, but it's what's inside that hard, spiky outer shell that matters more.Sweet Fury, he would curse. If only these emotions had a physical form so that he could slay them.
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> there is no proofreading and sweet jesus this is really bad but the idea was put into my head and i had to write it, sue me

Estinien was never one to let his feelings get the better of him. Even he knew when there was a time and place for everything, though his actions regarding Nidhogg would say otherwise. True that the wyrm had to die for his actions, and true that Estinien wanted to be the one to fell the dread wyrm out of vengeance for his family. Yet, he was one man. He wasn't foolish enough to thrust himself into the wyrm's maw just for a chance to try and kill him — gods, no. He knew that was a fool's errand. Anyone worth their weight in steel knew that going after such a large, powerful, ancient foe alone was suicide.

The Warrior of Light, however, was a peculiar one. He'd seen them on his solo patrols around Coerthas, seen them riding around on the back of a chocobo from Camp Dragonhead to the Observatory, occasionally to Whitebrim. They'd caused a stir amidst the high houses of Ishgard, what with being accused as siding with heretics and saving that young Haillenarte lad from execution. Catching the attention of the affable Haurchefant Greystone of House Fortemps, even. Estinien seldom spoke to them, merely watching from a distance and observing their actions. Whether or not they were an enemy to the Holy See, a thrall to Nidhogg, he'd watched like a hawk for telltale signs. 

Brought into Ishgard's walls was the Warrior of Light and their companions — a young elezen lad and a lalafellin lass. Quite the group, if Estinien could say so. It wasn't often strangers were brought into the Holy See, let alone one that was initially accused of being a heretic. They'd come into Haurchefant's good graces, and as a result, they were taken in as a ward of House Fortemps. A surprising turn of events, as it were, yet the dragoon had no reason to doubt their motives. 

It was then that he'd seen to actually work with them on their mission. They had a common goal, and that was to put an end to Nidhogg's reign of terror... though their methods were baffling. Baffling enough to hide the details from Aymeric, and essentially go behind his back to parley with the leader of the heretics herself, in an attempt to peacefully resolve this war. Estinien was no fool, there was no peaceful end to a millennia of hatred and contempt. He would laugh at the idea of reaching a peaceful end with the dragons, yet he chose to come along. Were things to go tits-up (they certainly would), they would at least have an ally at their side to help them fight. 

The journey with them was interesting, to say the least. Though Estinien and Lady Iceheart — Ysayle, she said her name was, yet he cared not about it — bickered endlessly, he still begrudgingly worked with her. Only for the Warrior of Light, he'd thought. Only for their foolish agenda of peace. Only for their strangely charismatic self, despite them having the conversational skills of a dead yeti most of the times. Yes, he'd only watched them from a distance until now, and he had to say that they were perhaps more intriguing up close than they were from a distance. Though he wouldn't dare to say that aloud for obvious reasons. All the walking in the godsforsaken cold, blustery highlands with that godsdamned Lady Iceheart almost seemed worth it for the Warrior of Light's company. Perhaps it was a good thing that they didn't speak much unless spoken to, or unless they were scolding the bickering pair. It made getting along with them easier.

When they did talk, however, he couldn't help but be drawn to the conversation. Or rather, listening to what story they told at the time closely. Though he wanted to get up and patrol the area around their camp, the look of sheer disapproval from the warrior made him think twice. He didn't want to trust Ysayle to look out for their safety — she was the leader of the enemy, after all — yet he was assured that she wouldn't turn against them. He hoped that was the case, anyways. If anything happened to them on his watch, Estinien would never have been able to forgive himself.

He would fight alongside them when trekking through the forelands, up Sohm Al to the region of floating isles, the Churning Mists — and ultimately, right in front of Nidhogg's doorstep. They'd informed Aymeric of what they were doing by then, Estinien being the one to fill him in on the details in the first place. He wasn't angry, surprisingly, but more intrigued than anything. Perhaps he thought this to be foolish as well, though he knew Aymeric. The man wanted peace for his home like any other. For that, and for the sake of fighting at the Warrior of Light's side, Estinien would allow himself to be a pawn to this skewed game of chess. Hah.

The fight alongside the Warrior of Light against Nidhogg was perhaps the one that helped the man to bond with the peculiar individual in the first place. They defended him as he prepared to use Nidhogg's own eye against him, and in turn, he protected them from the scorching blast of hatred and malice that threatened to consume them both, had Estinien not been prepared. By the time the Warrior of Light had weakened Nidhogg enough, Estinien had jumped in to finish the wyrm off. Tearing out the eye he would come to learn wasn't Nidhogg's, and bathing in the blood of his lifelong enemy. The sweltering heat of dragon's blood prickled where it touched his skin, and dyed his black armor a vivid crimson. The mark of the man that slayed the dread wyrm, put an end to it despite failed attempts at peace talks with the wyrm's brood-brother. Not that it would have gone anywhere anyways, given that Hraesvelgr's brood and Nidhogg's were two different breeds entirely. Though they were related by blood, their behaviors were wildly different between the progenitors. 

Regardless, the black wyrm's brood had scattered, they felt their progenitor's passing and were sent in disarray. It was like a dream, really, Estinien had secretly believed he would never live to see this day. Nidhogg, finally dead after a millennia, the war against the dragons won by Ishgard. Though the truth of the reason behind Nidhogg's hatred would shake the faiths of many, it was bound to be uncovered eventually. Better now than later, to help with mending a thousand years of hatred and loss.

Despite Ishgard not being their home, despite them being a simple adventurer at the heart of this, the Warrior of Light was happy to see that the war was over. For some reason, they felt this victory was theirs as well, despite them being able to leave at any given point in time. They had Estinien's back while they were fighting in the Aery, and in truth, he had theirs as well. He was proud to call them a friend... their smile warmed some part of him that he was certain never warmed in such a way before. While others might have been afraid to face down a dragon much larger than they are, the warrior was fearless in that moment. They stared Nidhogg down like he was just another common enemy, perhaps a Garlean soldier, and some part of the dragoon admired that about them. How they could remain so calm in such a situation, it was amazing.

Truly amazing... he couldn't stop thinking about this. About _them._ His heart thrummed softly against his mail when they stood close, or when they addressed him for something. Camping on their way back to Ishgard felt different. Intimate, even with Ysayle and Alphinaud there, chatting to fill the silence. Roasting their rations over a fire, it could qualify as a small celebration on their terms without all the noise. Through his featureless helmet, Estinien watched the Warrior of Light. He didn't care about the other two there, and he still kept his senses sharp in case a stray dragon from the horde struck unexpectedly, but most of his attention lingered on the savior of the Holy See and her future. 

He did well to hide his feelings, however. He saw it to be very unbecoming to reveal his attraction right after they'd slain their enemy, and thus held his tongue for now. He wouldn't say that he adored them by any means. In truth, he wasn't at all experienced in terms of romantic feelings. Physical attraction was something he was familiar with, which was what he thought this to be in the first place... yet, even imagining it, Estinien couldn't help but feel like there was more to it. Like he wanted more than just a bodily attraction. He wanted... them? The way the corners of their eyes crinkled when they smiled, listening to their tone of voice when they approved or disapproved of something, how they would chuckle and sigh. He wanted to touch them. Couldn't, on account of being covered in blood. Or, he couldn't on account of he had no excuse to do so. 

They would return to Ishgard at Aymeric's behest, however, Ishgard having come under attack by the heretics despite Ysayle's absence. Of course, Estinien had scrutinized her, thinking that she had secretly corresponded with her soldiers to attack Ishgard with the Warrior of Light's absence, yet she'd firmly denied that such a thing occurred. Regardless, they'd made haste back to the Holy See, returning to the city inside its walls in flames thanks to the heretics. Lord Haurchefant had found them first, and quickly led them to where the bigger congregation of heretics were at Ysayle's request. Her words were enough to stop them and their attack, and she'd ultimately led them out of Ishgard after convincing them to lower their arms. Though Estinien wasn't convinced, he could at least be happy with the result and be happy that Lady Iceheart was finally not a part of their little band. Tensions ease, the knights of Ishgard being baffled that the leader of the heretics made an appearance and declared the Dragonsong War to be over. 

Estinien turned towards the Warrior of Light again, about to say how glad he was that they'd gotten back in time, seeing them embracing Haurchefant. The smiles on their faces, the relief on the knight's upon seeing the Warrior of Light safe and sound... _ah,_ Estinien had thought. So that was the nature of their relationship. He was bitter, though glad he'd never said anything to them regarding how he'd felt and what he'd wanted. Matters of the heart were something he wasn't prepared with anyways, even if the bitter feeling of silent rejection plagued him. He'd simply scowl and count his blessings that he found such a companion in the Warrior of Light in the first place. 

He'd essentially made himself scarce, as unintentional as it was. Not only did he have business to discuss with Aymeric, but he'd subconsciously wanted to avoid both the warrior and Haurchefant. Not out of hatred, mind you, but more of... he'd felt like an awkward teenager again, dewy and shaky with a lance. Yet, that was a challenge that was easily overcome with enough determination and training. This? This was complicated. Feelings Estinien didn't want to deal with, nor did he ever foresee himself dealing with. Seeing either of them just brought that flaming spark of irritation back.

Irritation? No. Even he knew deep down it wasn't irritation. _Jealousy,_ his heart spoke against him. _Straight to the hells with that,_ he would respond. This was just a phase, it would pass. It would pass. It would pass...

He kept telling himself that, anyways. So long as he didn't see either of them much, he'd get over it eventually. It would pass, and Estinien would go back to his usual, aloof self. He wanted to believe that.

Aymeric raising the idea of confronting Archbishop Thordan by himself about Ishgard's past did alarm Estinien some. The idea of the lord commander going alone anywhere didn't sound right to him, let alone the man being a dear friend of his. He wanted to come along, look for any reason to stop Aymeric's ridiculous plan. The dragoon knew that something was going to go awry, and though Aymeric knew that as well, he still insisted on going alone. Halfheartedly, Estinien damned him, yet both of them knew that those were rather meaningless words. Aymeric had set off, and they were all left to wait in anticipation of what the results of this plan would be. At the very least, this served to be a distraction from his own unnecessary feelings. 

Word of Aymeric's imprisonment were quick to reach Estinien's ears, however, and of course he was going to be one of the first to jump to action. He knew something was going to happen, he just knew it. Seeing his fears confirmed wasn't a comfort in the slightest. Why, he almost contemplated charging into The Vault by himself and spearing anyone that got in his way. Unfortunately, he was stopped from charging in. Instead, forced to team up with the Warrior of Light and Haurchefant, among others. Those unnecessary feelings came back. Aymeric needed them as much as they needed him, so he'd bit his tongue and dealt with it for his friend's sake.

Together, they fought through the Vault, and through the ranks of the Heavens' Ward. The heat of battle would be enough to distract Estinien, to help him focus on the task at hand despite two sources of his internal distress being present at the time. Aymeric needed them, he kept telling himself. He needed them...

Ser Charibert defeated, their little group rush forth to where Aymeric was being held. There he'd been, still trying to convince the archbishop, his father, to reveal Ishgard's past to her people. As one cannot teach an old dog new tricks, he couldn't tear Thordan out of his ways of concealment. The Warrior of Light hastily charged ahead, giving chase to Thordan, doing anything they could within their power to stop him from escaping.

The hairs on the back of Estinien's neck stand on end, and he'd looked up. One of the Temple Knights stood above them, out of their sights, a spear of light in his hands. Time slowed to a crawl, then, starting with Haurchefant's initial warning to the Warrior of Light. They hadn't noticed the danger until it was too late, Haurchefant had already blocked the spear of light with his shield. Estinien watches helplessly, uselessly as the projectile tore through the tempered steel — and through the knight it belonged to as a result. Aymeric's shout had snapped him out of it, and he was slow to arrive at Haurchefant's side. The last one, really, he was too shocked to react as quick as he usually did.

Aymeric cradled the dying man in his arms, blood pooling around him. Estinien could see even from where he stood, there was a hole clean through Haurchefant. Too big to be mended by simple magic alone, it was a wonder how he hadn't died right away. How he managed to hang on to speak his last words. To hold the Warrior of Light's hand, and to tell them to smile, as it better suit them rather than... than...

The expression on the warrior's face was... Estinien could hardly put a word to it. They looked absolutely destroyed, their heart shattered and the look in their eyes broken. The smile they'd given to Haurchefant didn't reach their eyes. Desperation was there. Silently begging for the man to hang in there, that they could somehow fix the gaping hole in his body. Though they knew that this was in vain. They knew, even as Haurchefant breathed his last, that they could have never done anything about this. No amount of white magic would be able to stop the inevitable. 

It was the soul-rending shout the Warrior of Light cried to the heavens that made Estinien actually open his eyes. He'd seen the Temple Knight before Haurchefant had, the split second before he'd summoned a projectile of light. Being a dragoon, he could have easily jumped to the knight's location and dispatched him, or at the very least, thwarted his attack. He could have acted much quicker, and he wouldn't have had to hear that cry that damned the Twelve for taking the love of their life away from them, damned the knight that had done the deed in the first place. Standing there and listening to their sobs, their cursing, the deafening silence of the rest of them as they'd allowed the warrior to vent out their feelings...

At that moment, guilt ate at Estinien.

He hated to admit that they were precious to him to some extent. He hated it, because he'd have done anything at that moment to never have to hear those cries again. They needed support, and he couldn't exactly just storm off so that he wouldn't have to hear them. Even if they didn't see him even a little bit as he saw them, Estinien knew better than to leave someone to their own grief. Still, it hurt to hear the Warrior of Light break like so. They were stalwart, nothing could shake them, he believed. Nothing before now. Now, they were just like any other ordinary person dealing with the loss of their loved one. He knew that feeling all too well, remembering his own loss made his heart clench painfully in his chest. Feelings he'd buried long ago were rearing their ugly heads again, among his feelings now.

He himself wanted to curse, but this was not his time to do so. Estinien wanted to say something to the Warrior of Light, but his mouth dried the moment he opened it. Aymeric tried his best to comfort them quietly, but even he had to turn his head away. The entire time, Estinien cursed himself over and over again, he could have done something about it. He could have stopped Haurchefant's passing, he wouldn't have had to hear these sobs that were already filling the silence in his mind after they'd stopped in reality. But, no. He'd stood there and done nothing. He stood there like an imbecile with his thumb up his arse and watched it happen.

The worst part was that he couldn't figure out if he'd intended it or not. Had some part of him worked against him? He knew in his heart this wasn't something he wanted to happen by any means. Estinien wouldn't dare to think of it, even in passing, to upset someone he held in high regard. That he cared for enough to even feel the way he was now... he wished they were unappealing to him. That they were annoying and outgoing, or overly optimistic, or anything that would have driven him away from these convoluted emotions.

Long after they'd left the Vault, after Aymeric was brought back to recover from his injuries and after Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light informed House Fortemps of Haurchefant's death, Estinien could still hear the sobs. The initial shout that was then followed by them. He could hardly look at them anymore, immediately reminded of what he'd heard. Though they put on a brave face, he knew that they were just a shadow of themselves. Some part of them died with Haurchefant that day, and it would remain dead. There was a deep, lingering depression behind their eyes that the dragoon couldn't bear to look at. He wanted to be there for them, yet he wouldn't dare to say that himself. They had friends around them — Mistress Tataru and Master Alphinaud — what would he contribute besides a silent, non-judgmental presence?

Nothing. He could bring nothing besides 'what-ifs', potential scenarios, and guilt. Guilt and self-hatred for what he could have possibly done to stop this. A different kind of guilt that wasn't too far off from what he'd felt when he'd lost his family. He reflected upon this even as he'd accompanied the Warrior of Light and their companions to Azys Lla to chase Thordan and his knights down and kill them.

Even as they'd slaughtered them all, Estinien still thought of what could have been done.

Even as he'd foolishly plucked Nidhogg's other eye from Thordan's grasp, with the first still on his person, it still plagued him.

Even as Nidhogg's anguish, malice, his millennia of hatred consumed Estinien and took his body away from his control, all his consciousness could focus on was the guilt that he was certain he'd carry with him until the day he died. Even as his thoughts ultimately started to fade, he lingered on the thought of the Warrior of Light, and what lengths he would be willing to go through to see them genuinely smile once more.


End file.
